Lost and Found
by Plastic Cat
Summary: Sophie Walsh. That's all she's known herself to be. But after her parent's death, she is informed that she was adopted as a young child, no memory of who she was and refused to speak. Now Sophie is given the choice to find who she was or remain who she is
1. Panic Attack

**A/N:** Man, I haven't written an Authors Note in a long time. Well, here's one of the stories I've had hidden in a flash drive. I'm still unsure about uploading my fanfiction. I don't know if I'll be able to devote myself to it. I have several chapters written already, so if I get distracted or lose interest in the story, I'll still be able to give you guys something. I'll try my best to stick to it (I kinda like the story) but we'll see. Thanks for reading! -LB

Oh, and I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter. Except for Sophie, her parents, and Mr. Dent. Okay, continue.

**Panic Attack**

Death. Proof that no matter how much you love someone, you can't stop the imminent from happening. You can't stop death in it's tracks or stop cancer from ravaging a body. You couldn't stop anything. You could only watch. Watch, wait, and weep.

I stood quietly as I watched my father's body lowered into the ground. I had no control over anything. No control, and everything was spinning out of it. I blinked, and everything was gone. My mother, my father, my life. Vanished. Poof. Vamoose. Gone.

A tear trailed down my face. I hastily wiped it away. Father wouldn't have liked me crying. He taught me that courage was important, that courage gave off the aura of control, knowledge. But I had no control over this. I had no courage. I was an orphan now. An orphan at nineteen. I wasn't even twenty yet. I was still a child, still indecisive. I didn't know what I was going to do with all of the money that was left to me.

I threw my rose into the grave. I had to let go now. I had to move on. I couldn't hold on to the past, but look forward towards the future. But I didn't want to. I didn't want to be all alone in a house. To eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner all alone. I didn't want to fall asleep by myself. I wanted the security of knowing that my parents were right down the hall, ready to help me if I have an asthma attack in the middle of the night. I didn't want to be alone when I get sick and needed a doctor. I wanted my parents.

Funny how we want the things we can't have, right?

I walked back to the car. I didn't know what I was going to do now. I didn't want to go back to the empty house and pity myself. I just wanted to go somewhere where no one knew me. Where no one cared if I had no family anymore.

There was a man waiting for me. He was wearing a black trench coat and bowler hat. He was not at the funeral, even though he was dressed like it. He held a manila envelope and was staring right at me_. _I clutched my umbrella handle tighter_. _

He introduced himself as Howard Dent and he wanted to discuss my parents last will and testaments with me. I ignored him and stepped into my car. He stopped my door from closing. I acknowledged him.

"What?" I hissed. My emotions were all over the place and I was in no mood for talking.

He said that the contents of my parents will were extremely important and should be addressed as soon as possible. He wanted to show them to me at the house. The empty house. My house. My back tensed. He wanted to go _now._

I glared at him from under the rim of my black sunhat. Then, I gave in. I said that I would meet him there. That I was heading there right now. I knew that if I didn't do this now, then I would never do it, ever. Dent smiled in victory, and then wiped it off his face. He nodded and walked back to his sleek and shiny car and drove away. I sighed and started my engine. I would need a drink after this.

The drive home was quiet. I had the radio off and the pounding rain was a soft tapping inside the car. I was trying my best not to cry, but I was failing miserably. I was all alone now with only dust bunnies and the crazy maids who did nothing as company. I wiped the warm tears from my face and focused on the road. I could barely see five meters in front of me and I didn't want to get into a crash… _or did I_? I didn't have to go back home and see that everyone was missing. I didn't have to be alone… I shook the crazy thought out of my mind. I didn't want my freedoms restricted to a hospital bed.

I arrived at the manor, my manor now, twenty minutes later. Howard Dent was waiting in his car. When he saw me pull up in the driveway, he got out of his car with his umbrella and the manila folder. I got out of my car and ran towards the door while pulling out my keys. I walked inside the manor without waiting for Howard. I left the door open and took off my black coat and gloves. I sulked into the parlor and found that the maids had started the fire. I slipped off my heels and sat on the sofa, waiting for Dent. He showed up half a minute later, hatless and coatless, looking around the house in awe, manila envelope still in hand.

He complimented the crown molding and sat down next to me on the sofa. I scooted away from him a bit, but he took no notice. He opened the envelope and pulled out several official looking documents and a necklace. He set everything out in front on me and I peeked a little. The necklace was made of some silver metal with chipped gold paint and a lion pendent hung in the middle. It looked new, yet old. I picked it up, ignoring the questioning look I was getting from Dent. Looking at the necklace, I sensed something about it. Something familiar. I stared at it, hoping to get some sort of memory, but none came. I sighed and sat it down.

Dent got straight to the point. He was a Wizarding Lawyer and that my parents had contacted him through the mail. I nodded my head at this. My parents were Muggles, while I was a Witch; a Muggleborn. They didn't exactly understand the whole concept of 'owls' as mail carriers.

Dent continued about how there were some serious issues that he was going to talk about. Issues that dealt with my early childhood. He handed me the documents on the table, saying that everything I needed to know was in there. There were three papers. One on them was my parents Will and the other was a paper that I had to read last. The last paper was a letter addressed to me. I read the letter first.

"_Dearest Sophie,_

_If you are reading this, then your mother and I have passed away before we could tell you everything that needed to be told. We want you to know that we loved and have always loved you with all of our beings and have always considered you a blessing. You were the gift the angels gave us late in life and we made sure that you were loved and pampered. You were our little princess. But, you were not our princess. We may have raised you, but you did not come from us. Sophie, you were adopted._

_I'm sure that this information is overwhelming. I know that you may feel light-headed and you want to think of this letter as a dream, but Sophie, it is not. We adopted you from an orphanage that was not well known. It was our last choice. We found you covered in dirt and grime, but we saw the angel underneath. The woman in charge of the orphanage said that you were getting ill, had fainting spells and that you developed asthma, but we didn't care. We wanted the miracle. We wanted the perfect daughter, and we got her. You were the perfect daughter, Sophie, and we were blessed._

_Sophie, as time passed, we noticed many odd things with you. You had always gotten almost everything that you wanted. Even when your mother and I didn't give it to you. We also noticed that whenever you didn't get what you wanted (which was rare, darling) everything in the house went absolutely bizarre. The lights flickered on and off, sometimes exploding, dishes flew off the shelves, and a few things even disappeared. We knew that we had gotten a very special child._

_We have not regretted anything considering you, Sophie. We raised you well, a little spoiled, but well nevertheless. You know courage and loyalty, the line between right and wrong, and to never judge a book by it's cover. We taught you the joys of reading and learning and witnessed only a few times being your sly, mischievous self. You were shy and quiet most of the time, Sophie, but we knew that a fire raged inside you. That there was another person waiting to burst out. I hope she does. You deserve to be yourself, your whole self. Not just the person who is out of the way. We saw her in you as a child and we hope everyone else gets to see her now._

_We loved you with all of our hearts, Sophie, and we knew that you loved us with all of yours. Don't be afraid to let go and love again. Your real parents are out there somewhere, waiting for you in some way, and if you want to know them, it's alright. You won't be betraying our memory or replacing us. We will always be with you in your heart._

_Good-Bye, Angel. Live your life to the fullest and don't regret anything. Life is an adventure, so treat it that way! _

_All of our love, in your world and the next._

_Edgar and Penelope Walsh."_

I felt light-headed after I read the letter. I- I was adopted? I wasn't Sophie Walsh? I wasn't Edgar and Penelope's daughter? I was… _Adopted_? I began to hyperventilate and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

I woke up disoriented. I had the weirdest dream. Mother and Father were dead and they left a note, a letter, saying that I was adopted. But I couldn't be adopted. There was no way. Father had red hair and Mother had blue eyes. Like me. But… Father didn't have the exact shade of red hair I had, and mother's eyes were more silver blue than ocean blue… But-but that didn't mean anything, did it?

I looked around and blushed. A man was standing over me, his eyes wide and uncertain. I slowly stood up and looked around again. Papers were on the ground and a necklace was on the coffee table. A lion necklace… I assumed my face held a mask of pure horror. My dream was real; it was all true. My parents were dead. I was adopted. I… I really was alone. I allowed a few tears to fall before I regained my composer. A certain Howard Dent was still in the room.

I sat down on the couch and picked up the necklace from the table. So, what did this piece of jewelry have to do with anything?

I rubbed my thumb over the face of the lion, and something hit me. A memory.

_I was staring up at the clouds, trying to guess which cloud looked like a dragon. I was four years old._

"_That one!" I pointed at a huge cloud._

"_No, that's a goblin!" The boy next to me shook his head and pointed at another cloud. "That's a dragon!"_

_I squinted at the cloud that he was pointing at. "No, that looks like a bunny!" _

"_That's not a bunny! It's a big scary dragon!" The boy protested. He sat up and I got a better look at him. He had red, wild hair, bright blue eyes, and loads of freckles. He looked just like me._

"_No, it looks like a big soft bunny rabbit!" I sat up too. "It does Ronny!" _

_Ronny groaned. "My name isn't Ronny, Amy! It's Ronald!"_

"_Your name is Ronny. Ronald sounds like a grown up name!" I whined. _

_Ronny stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck mine out too. _

"_I'm gonga ick ou!" Said Ronny, getting closer._

_A bubble of laugher and terror emitted from me as I ran away from Ronny's tongue._

_We ran around the yard, laughing and chasing each other._

The memory ended there. I blinked and looked down at the necklace. I was wearing that necklace in the memory. With Ronny. Ronald. Was he my brother? We looked nearly identical.

"Miss Walsh?" Dent interrupted my thoughts. I jumped and picked up my parents- my adopted parents wills.

"_The Last Will and Testament of Edgar Marcus Walsh and Penelope Yvette Hall-Walsh_

_To Sophia Emilie Walsh, we leave everything in our possession, which includes our business- Walsh Trading- our money, and the house and all that it may contain, so that she may live her life with nearly everything she may need._

_We also leave Sophia Emilie Walsh ten Private Investigators and ten Magical Investigators, so if she were to ever look for her family, people would always be at hand._

_Edgar Marcus Walsh_

_Penelope Yvette Hall-Walsh"_

I wiped my eyes and looked around. The house was officially mine. The money and the business was mine also. I also had Private Investigators in two worlds, ready to find my biological family.

I sniffed and looked at the last document. It was my adoption paper. I dried my eyes and read the paper seriously.

It said that I was dropped off at the orphanage seventeen days before I was adopted, with a necklace and torn clothes on. Two men left me on the door step and ran away into their van. They were chased five minutes later by police. I was five years old.

On my medical section of the legal paper, it said that I had asthma and that I was prone to fainting spells. It was also written that I would not, or could not, talk.

At the top, it said that I had no name.

I wiped my eyes again and put the paper down. I never told my name, so I got a new name. Why didn't I tell them my name? Why would I not talk?

I sighed and leaned back on the cushions. My mind was working overtime with all of this information. I let the paper drop to the floor and closed my eyes. I felt Dent get up from the sofa and cleared his throat.

"Well, then, Miss Walsh. If you have no questions, then, I guess I should be going. Here is my address if you wish to floo me, and, I suppose I'll go now." I heard Dent leave the room.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Everything was mine now. All of it. I stood up, still holding the necklace, and walked into the hall. I headed up the stairs, clutching my neck. It was getting hard to breathe. _I needed my inhaler_. I needed it now. I ran up the rest of the stairs and into my bathroom. All of the doors in the hallway were swinging on their hinges wildly. I slammed the medicine cabinet open and knocked all of my other medications out of the way. They flew across the room and exploded into showers of pills. _I needed my inhaler_! I found it, in the very back. I ripped the top off and squeezed. And squeezed. My breathing was getting shallower and shallower. My inhaler wasn't working. But it was. It just wasn't working on me.

I couldn't breathe. I fell to the ground with my medications. I curled into a fetal position. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't. Tears were running down my face like rivers. Like a dam broke and a flood was released. I couldn't _breathe_. I held on to my necklace as if it was my life. I quickly slipped into unconsciousness with one thought running around in my head.

_I was adopted._


	2. Trying to Wake Up

**Trying to Wake Up from the Nightmare that is My Life…**

When I woke, it was night out and I was still on the bathroom floor. I sat up shakily and looked around. Pills surrounded me. All of my pills, out of their canisters. I coughed. I was going to need a bunchof refills.

I carefully stood up, holding on to the counter for dear life. When I was fully upright, I took a few wobbly steps without falling. I looked back down and found my necklace on the ground. I squatted down and picked it up between my thumb and forefinger. I raised myself back into a standing position and shuffled out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. I dropped the necklace on my nightstand and walked towards my dresser by my closet. I pulled out a pair of pajamas and pulled them on after yanking my black dress off.

I collapsed onto my king sized bed and was immediately asleep.

"_Ronny," I looked up at my brother. "You're my best friend."_

_Ronny peered down from his spot in the tree and smiled. "You're my best friend too, Amy."_

_I smiled. "Good because I sorta broke Percy's toy cauldron and said you did it!" I ran away from the tree, laughing and shouting. "I found him! He's in the tree, Percy!"_

I woke up groggily and quickly fell back asleep.

"_I win!" I shouted when the card pile exploded. "You lose, Billy!"_

_Billy, the boy who was much older than me smiled. "You're too good at this game, Amy!"_

_I smiled my toothy grin. "I'm the best Exploding Snap player ever!"_

_Billy laughed and re-shuffled the deck, an audience gathering._

I woke up once more and stretched. I looked at the clock on my nightstand and saw that it read nine o'clock. I got out of bed and opened the curtains. Light poured into the room and I squeezed my eyes closed. I was going to have to get more medicine today. I found my necklace on the dresser and fumbled putting it on. I pulled my bath robe over my pajamas and left my room.

I walked through the parlor without a glance around and headed into the dining room. I had expected to see Father sitting at the head of the table, reading the newspaper, but the room was empty. Father wasn't there. That was when the memories of yesterday hit me, and I was forced to take a seat alone.

I looked up at the head of the table one last time before walking into the kitchens to greet the cooks. There was only one cook in the kitchen and she was making a simple meal. Eggs and toast. I walked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. She turned her head the slightest and screamed when my face was right there. She threw her spatula up in the air and jumped a foot off the ground.

I began apologising furiously and caught the spatula before it hit the ground.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! I'm sorry!" But the young cook waved me off, clutching her heart.

"I-it's okay, Miss Walsh. You just surprised me, is all. Your breakfast is almost finished, if you want to wait in the dining room." The cook returned to the eggs.

"I was thinking about eating in here, actually." I sat down at a counter. "Where are all the other cooks?"

She continued to tend the eggs. "Home. There's only you now and unless you're planning on any parties, there is no need for four cooks in the kitchen making enough food to feed a city."

I looked down at the counter, my finger trailing a watermark. "Oh," was all I could say.

I looked out the window, my mind empty of thought. Another memory came.

"_Amy!" One of my older brothers called. "Amy, Mum wants you inside now!"_

_I groaned and stood up from the pile of flower crowns I was making. I looked back towards the kitchen door and saw that Ronny was jogging over to me._

"_Hiya Amy!" said Ronny when he was closer. "Mum said supper's ready… Oh, look! It's that Muggle." Ronny pointed down the hill._

_I looked and backed away. "He's creepy." I whispered. "He's always walking around. Do you think he's a spy?" I asked, the excitement in my voice evident._

_Ronny considered the possibilities. "I think he is. What should we do? Spy back on him?"_

_I shrugged. "Maybe we should. Then we'll know if he's a spy."_

_Ronny smiled. "This is going to be so wicked!"_

"_But Mummy and everyone else can't know. They would think that we're making it all up."_

_Ronny nodded. "When we have proof, then we'll tell."_

"_When we have proof." I repeated and looked at the Muggle's retreating back. The spying had begun._

When the cook placed my plate in front of me with a low _clang! _I was brought out of my daydream, cringing. I looked around and found that I was in my kitchen, not outside, spying on a Muggle. I nodded at the cook and began to eat my eggs without tasting them.

When I finished my breakfast, I walked out into the backyard. I had to think. I had to try to remember my past. Maybe I could do this by myself. I bet I could find my true parents… but do I want to? Do I want to find the people who abandoned me? Who didn't bother trying to find me? Or did they?

I sprung up with sudden inspiration. Racing up the stairs, I got dressed in my room and grabbed my bag while I ran towards the car. I jammed the keys into the engine and backed out of the driveway. If I was kidnapped and if my parents were looking for me, then there had to have been some sort of search, right? And if there was a search, the library would have record of it. Either on the computer or in some old newspapers, right? So, if I looked in the library, I would find the names of my parents, and if I found the names of my parents, I could find where they live!

I raced off towards the library, not paying attention to the speedometer. It was only when I almost hit a car while trying to make a light, when I decided to slow down. It was amazing I wasn't pulled over by a police officer. Then that would be bad news.

I made it to the library in record time. I parked in a parking space across the street and ran towards the library, dodging traffic. I raced up the steps and pushed through the revolving doors. Who I ran into was rather embarrassing. It was a man, around my age or so, carrying a large stack of books. Or, was, until I ran into him and knocked us both down. His books went sprawling all over the place and made a loud noise when they hit the marble flooring. I shut my eyes as the noise reverberated in my head.

It took a second to collect my wits and get off the blond man. I blushed and held my hand out, sputtering out apologise, but he nodded curtly at me and began to collect his books. I scuttled over to the furthest book and returned it to him. I knew my whole face and the tip of my ears were red.

"I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to run into you, I shouldn't have been running at all- I'm sorry!" I chattered on. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm sorry."

The man held up a hand to silence me. "It's alright, I understand." He said sort of briskly. "I'm not hurt."

I blushed even harder. "I'm still sorry." I don't know what compelled me to do so, but I held out my hand, forgetting the man had an armful of books to juggle. "My name's Sophie Walsh."

The man smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Sophie. Now, I really must get going. I hope _you_ are okay." He nodded at me. "Good day." and he walked out of the library without a second glance.

I sighed and looked around the library. Where was I to start? On the computers or the newspapers. The answer was obvious. I headed towards the computers, hoping that one was free.

And one was. I sat in the chair and began to type.

It took two hours to find that what I was looking for didn't exist in the data chip archives. This left me to the daunting task of rummaging through old newspapers. I sighed and reluctantly dragged myself to the newspaper archives. Curse the infernal computers the Muggles invented. What use were they if you can't find a bloody thing on them?

I arrived to the dark, lonely corner of the library that held the newspapers from yesteryear. The newspapers towered before me. How could I find anything in all of this? I grabbed as many newspapers as I could that were published around the year I was adopted and got to work.

After a couple of hours of searching and many curses uttered under my breath, I found something. A newspaper, five years after I was born. It said that a young girl was missing, but it didn't say a name. It didn't say who the parents were. It just showed a girl of five with light hair and possibly green eyes. It wasn't me. I continued on my search.

Twenty minutes later, I found another newspaper with another missing girl. It was five days after the blond child went missing, when this girls was lost. She was also around five, with long black hair, olive-toned skin, and dark eyes. No name, not me. I began to look again.

Another newspaper, two days after the olive skinned child went missing, another child was gone. And this child looked familiar. She wasn't me, no, but she looked like someone I knew. Or, used to know. She had dark brown hair and light grey eyes that seemed to sparkle, even in the fading paper. The article said she, like the other young girls, was five years old. Apparently, she was taken right out of her bed, without her parents knowledge. The newspaper said her name was Charlotte. Her name was the only one mentioned.

I turned the page to the full article and was hit by another memory.

_I was in a dark cellar. I felt alone. But there was one other person. A girl. She said her name was Charlotte. She said her Daddy's name was serious. I didn't really understand. Maybe it was a grown up name. I said my name was Amy. We were quick friends._

_We saw other girls come into the cellar, but they were taken away again. Only me and Charlotte stayed in the cellar for long. I didn't know why. I asked Charlotte, and she shrugged._

"_I don't know." she said. I whimpered a little. It was cold inside the cellar, even though it was summer out. I think. I don't know how long I was in there._

"_The man who took me, me and Ronny called him Mr. Spider." I whispered. "Then he took me. Ronny was scared. He yelled for help, but Mr. Spider ran away. He took me with him. He was going to take Ronny, but he took me." I began to cry. "I miss Ronny."_

_Charlotte began to cry a bit. "I miss my daddy. He had to go away. Harry was in trouble. I stayed with Remmy, but when he had to go away for a little while, a man took me away. I miss Remmy!" She began to wail._

_We cried together, and I heard Mr. Spider yell at us._

Tears were running down my cheeks when the memory ended. I was friends with Charlotte. I ran the memory through my mind again and I gasped. She said that her fathers name was 'serious'. Did she mean 'Sirius'? Was her father Sirius Black? The innocent convict? Was she a witch? I looked down at the newspaper on the ground. Charlotte's face smiled up at me. I abandoned the pile of newspapers and pulled out my wand. I was a witch, I could sort these piles!

I looked around and whispered a spell, hoping that no one was peeking at me. Soon, a small stack of papers were in front of me. I sat down, excited. Was Charlotte found?

I searched through the first newspaper. It said that the four missing girls were not found yet. Four? Was one of them me? I searched through the article, but there was no mention of a name. No one was found yet.

I threw the paper down and picked up another one. Another girl was missing. I almost threw the paper down, until I saw the picture. It was me. I scanned through the article, searching for a name. It only said my first name. Amy. No last name.

I was suddenly furious. Why didn't they have my last name? I've spent hours searching for me, and this was all I could find? I threw the paper down with the other one. I picked the next one up. It said that the blonde girl was found. Dead. My anger quickly vanished. The first girl was dead. D-E-A-D dead. I looked up from the newspaper and looked around. I could have been dead. I could have been killed. I looked down at the article again and found where her body was discovered. Tears fell down my face. She was found in a dumpster. Her name was released as 'Alicia'. She was dead for, approximately, two days when they found her.

I put the newspaper down, not wanting to read it anymore. I didn't want to read any of it. But I had to find out what happened to Charlotte. I gingerly picked up another daily and read about it's update on the missing children. This one said that the olive skinned girl was found, but her body was hacked. I threw the paper down and picked up another one.

Another girl missing. I picked up another. Another girl missing. Another girl missing. Two more girls dead. Another girl missing. Soon, ten girls were missing, two of them twins. I picked up the last paper. It's headline read "Kidnapper Caught" I read it feverishly.

The paper said that even though two men were involved in the crime, only one had been caught. His name was Scott Telm. He was short, but still intimidating. He refused to turn in his partner. Telm was tried and found guilty on the counts of kidnapping and murder. He was sentenced to be executed. Telm was found with his wrists cut in his jail cell three days later. His partner in crime was still at large.

The paper reported that all but two of the missing girls were found, half alive. They were sent to the hospital and their families notified. The paper said that it was highly doubtful that the remaining two girls were alive. Charlotte Black and Amy Weasley were presumed dead.

My eyes were wide when I finished reading. '_Charlotte Black and Amy Weasley were presumed dead.' _I began to laugh. Charlotte Black and Amy Weasley were presumed dead. Amy Weasley. I laughed louder. I was Amy Weasley. A Weasley. I stifled my remaining laughter and self consciously wiped my mouth for any drool.

I stood up and carefully stacked the newspapers. I finished putting away the last one when I remembered something. Charlotte Black and Amy Weasley were presumed dead. To the world, I was dead. And Charlotte. Was she dead, or was she adopted, like me? Were we in the same orphanage together?

I picked up my bag and walked out of the library, tripping over a few books that were left on the ground.

When I returned home, I searched for my adoption papers. I had to see if there were any notes of Charlotte on there. I found the papers back in the manila envelope in the parlor, still on the coffee table. I ripped the envelope open and dumped the contents onto the table. I picked the adoption paper up and scanned it twice, but no mention of Charlotte was on the paper. I was alone there. I dropped the paper on the ground and sat down on the sofa.

What was I going to do? I had a sudden idea and picked the paper back up. I ran back to my car and pulled back out of the driveway.

When I reached Muggle London, I looked at the address on the adoption paper and drove down the roads to get there. The orphanage was in the poverty section of London, crammed between two towering buildings. I felt nervous being there. I parked along the edge of the road and got out, pulling my jacket back on. I locked the car and, while making sure no one was watching, placed a protective spell over it. I smirked and knocked on the orphanage door.

I was tempted to leave after a few minutes, but soon, the door of the orphanage swung open, revealing a small woman. She was dressed simply in a pair of denim jeans and a jumper. She asked who I was in an Irish drawl, and I held my adoption paper. She squinted at it and her eyes widened. She shooed me in and locked the door with several kinds of locks. She gestured towards the back office and knocked on it's door.

"Ms. White?" she called. "Some'ns 'ere te see ya!" she then sat down at the front desk, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

The back door opened and a large woman, her skin the colour of soot, looked down at me.

"Yes?" she asked in a soft voice that did not fit her.

"Er, hello. I'm Sophie Walsh. I- I was adopted here from Edgar and Penelope Walsh about fifteen years ago." I held my adoption paper up and Ms. White's eyes widened.

"Oh," she whispered. "Then come in, please."

I walked into the small office and looked around. It was dark and dingy with a small desk in the center of the room, accompanied by two chairs. I sat down in one of them and looked at Ms. White.

"I suppose you want to know about how you got here," Ms. White said softly as she took a seat behind her desk.

"Yes, I do. And I want to know if you knew if another girl came with me."

Ms. White struggled to remember. "I-I don't remember to much. I was new then, and… I think you were alone. The two men dropped you off here and drove away. The police followed. Mrs. Anderson, the woman who was in charge then, didn't know what to do then. So, she kept you. A while later, you were adopted. That's all."

I sighed. "Oh, thank you," I stood to leave. "Thank you for your time."

Ms. White looked quite sad. "I'm sorry I didn't know much. But," she turned and opened up a file cabinet that was hidden in the shadows. She pulled out a folder and handed it to me. I carefully took it from her. "Mrs. Anderson documented the whole thing. She liked to be on top of things and wanted to be able to know everything. Here, you can have your file."

I looked down and smiled a bit. "Thank you, Ms. White. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Ms. White smiled, her pure white teeth standing out quite brilliantly. "I'm happy to have been of help."

I looked around. "I suppose I should be going. Thank you, again." I turned to leave when a small boy ran into me.

"Ms. White! Cam-" he was saying before he hit the ground. I gasped and helped him up.

"Are you okay?" I asked the small boy, but he ignored me.

"Ms. White! Cameron hid all my stuff and he won't tell me where they are!" he looked up at me, surprised I was there. "Hi!" he waved up at me.

I smiled and waved back. "Hello." The small boy had light blond hair and stormy grey eyes. He had fair skin and looked to be seven years old.

"Cameron took all of my stuff and hid it." he told me, as if he expected me to fix it all.

I frowned. "That wasn't very nice of him."

The boy shook his head. "He's a bully."

"He sounds like one. I'm Sophie. What's your name?"

"Tommy. Do you live here?"

I smiled. "I used to. Do you live here?"

"Yep." Tommy said. "Can you help me look for my stuff?"

I looked at Ms. White, who was looking adoringly at Tommy.

"I suppose," I said. Tommy took my hand and lead me up the stairs and to the first bedroom.

"This is my room," Tommy pointed out. "Cameron sleeps in here too."

I looked at the room wide eyed. The place was filthy. No child should have to sleep in here. The wallpaper was peeling from the walls and the beds look like they were infested with bugs. Why wasn't this place shut down?

"Because people have to live here," said Tommy and looked under his bed. I jumped. I didn't know I said that aloud.

"What are you looking for?" I asked Tommy gently.

"My blanket and my left shoe." Tommy pointed at his right, shoeless foot.

"I think you mean your right shoe. You have your left shoe." I smiled and Tommy blushed.

"I knew that," he murmured and looked under his mattress. "Can you help me?"

I smiled and looked under Cameron's bed.

It was twenty minutes later until I found Tommy's blanket and right shoe in Cameron's pillowcase. I pulled them out and tossed them in the air.

"Found them!" I laughed and tossed them at Tommy. He caught them and put the blanket on the bed while he pulled his shoe on.

"Thank you Sophie!" he smiled and ran out of the room.

I walked out of Tommy's room and back down the stairs. At the bottom, Ms. White was waiting for me.

"He's a sweetheart, isn't he?" she asked, a smirk pulling up the edges of her mouth.

"He is," I smiled. "But, why hasn't he been adopted? He's the cutest thing. Anyone would be happy to have him."

At this, Ms. White began to frown. "Well, he's cute enough, but, well, things just _happen_ around him."

I raised my eyebrow. "How old is he? Seven?"

Ms. White shook her head. "No, he's nine. He's small for his age. He gets teased a bit about it."

I nodded my head. "Oh, okay," an idea popped in my head, but I shushed it down. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I could barely take care of myself, let alone another human being. "I guess I should be going now. Thank you for the information." and I left. A small voice in the back of my head seemed to whisper something to me, but I brushed my conscience away. I had an agenda of my own.


End file.
